Private What we do now, echoes in eternity

[Connel Vanagor]

What we do now echoes in eternity.
Enterprise Station Ship
Open Space

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

PRIVATE LOG – CONNEL VANAGOR

LOCATION: Enterprise Station Ship
STATUS: Orbit Locked – Secure
TIME INDEX: 0400, Local Ship Standard

BEGIN ENTRY

It’s quiet.
Too quiet for a ship preparing to take on three new lives.

But maybe that’s how it should be.

The hum of atmospheric scrubbers. The subtle shifts in bulkhead pressure. The rhythm of boots on deck as Omega Squad runs their standard system-wide sweep. This place isn’t a monastery. It’s a forge. And for the first time since my father’s death… I find myself shaping something that isn’t just a mission.

Three Padawans.

Not operatives. Not agents. Not soldiers.
Padawans.

And this station—this floating shard of purpose above the storm—is going to be their proving ground. Not just for stealth, not just for sabotage, not just for war. For identity. For discipline. For choice.

---

Dagos Terrek.
He’s already a brother in blood, if not name. My father’s final student. The last apprentice of Caltin Vanagor. I know what that means. The weight. The shadow. The expectations.

Dagos carries the ghosts of every line in the Code that my father ever uttered in that baritone voice of his—and the fire of the streets underneath. He knows the Underworld. He’s done things the Council would hesitate to even name aloud. That’s not a stain. That’s a skillset. But I will expect him to remember that shadow and dagger are tools—not identities. Not destinies.

He deserves more than a legacy.
He deserves direction forged with him. Not for him.

---

Cartri Keswoll.
Darkwire. That’s not just a file header, that’s a warning label. Most Jedi don’t get within five systems of that name and sleep well at night. He didn’t just run with them—he survived them. Out-thought them. Built around their rules and tore through more firewalls than I care to think about.

He's the kind of tech-savant the Empire dreads. But tools can become crutches. I’ve seen it. Force-sensitivity can get diluted under circuitry and schematics. Cartri is going to learn that a lightsaber isn’t a backup plan. And the Force isn’t a terminal waiting for a query.

He has the mind of a slicer. I’m going to help him grow the soul of a Jedi.

---

Kell Masaara.
She’s the one who already caught me off guard.

The kid moved like a whisper in the Force, felt through steel bulkheads like they were air, and fed me tactical readouts in a way I’d expect from Sariel or Gabriel. She belongs here. But belonging doesn’t mean being ready.

Stealth. Pathfinding. Observation. That’s her foundation.

But this ship, this mission, and this war we didn’t choose—this is going to teach her to act. To know when to disappear... and when to make the galaxy know her name. I see in her what Ala once saw in me—an ability not just to follow the path, but to make it.

---

Omega Squad is prepping the loading bay. BRAD’s already making fun comments about setting up bunk assignments like a “cruise director with a lightsaber fetish.” Michael’s keeping him in check. Barely. Gabriel’s rerouting auxiliary power and integrating updated training modules into the simulation deck. Raphael and Jeremiel are hauling gear crates like it’s drop day. Azrael’s in the armory. Sariel’s nowhere to be seen, which means he’s exactly where I want him.

They're ready. Whether they admit it or not, they’re eager to teach.

Not just with weapons. Not just with tactics. But with trust.

---

This isn’t the Jedi Temple.
It’s not a battlefield either.

It’s something in between—just like them.
Just like me.

When they arrive, I’ll gather them on the observation deck. Let them see the stars. Let them feel how small everything looks when you’re floating between two galaxies, and how much power there is in simply choosing where to go next.

Then I’ll tell them:

“You’re not here to be soldiers.
You’re not here to be ghosts.
You’re here to become who you were meant to be—
Even if the galaxy never sees you do it.”

And I’ll mean every word.

END ENTRY

Dagos Terrek • Cartri Keswoll • Kell Masaara​

 

[Kell Masaara]

Connel Vanagor

Kell arrives first at the helm of a borrowed x-wing, probably the most horsepower she's had access to in her incredibly short flight career. Her landing consists of... mostly hovering in place in an attempt to keep it centered - at least she's not dropping it down like something that doesn't cost more money than she's ever seen in her life. Despite her best efforts, the final, jerky descent still thumps the landing pad, though it's a marked improvement over her arrival at Caltin's memorial or the inception of the Hidden Path. Someone's clearly practicing in her spare time. At least the astromech isn't screaming at her anymore!

Apparently quite pleased with herself, an upbeat Kell in one of the NJO's gray jumpsuits bounces happily out of the cockpit and considers heading for the first spooky-armored super agent she can find. Already familiar with Omega Squad, at least in their general appearance and how they feel in the Force, none of them could truly evade her for long. Ultimately, it's probably more proper and polite to wait at the ship - not everyone appreciates somebody just walking around their station as if they own the place - and so she does, leaning her shoulder against the nose of the x-wing and taking in the sights, such as they are, until addressed.

 

[Dagos Terrek]

​

A ship dropped out of hyperspace far enough out from the space station so as to not be mistaken for a threat. The ship was old, like really fething old but Dagos Terrek wouldn't have traded her for brand new off the line. He'd come to not only know and anticipate every quirk the old vessel had, he loved them.

This was his ship but that isn't the whole story because before she was Dagos' she was Joran's.

Joran Del-Finn was like a father to him for so long. Dagos own father when he lived was barely able to look at Dagos but Joran had been there. Joran saved him and his family from the horror of Harun Kal. He was there on Nar Shadda as Dagos grew, he taught Dagos how to fight, when to fight, he taught him what it was to be a man. Well, Joran's version of it anyway.

Dagos punched a few keys and sent his info to the space station so that he could be allowed to dock. There were some interesting notes in the information Dag sent, among them the age of the vessel, and any records would show she had once looked different, now she was painted all black save for the enormous, red dragon decals painted on either side of the hull, the last and maybe most interesting thing to certain people aboard the station was the ship had recently gone under a name change.

Once christened 'The Old Girl' by its original owner, Joran had kept that name, but when the ship became Dagos' he had it changed. Not in an attempt to claim ownership, but to earn it.

'The Big Guy' was given clearance to dock and Dag brought her smoothly to a landing in the hanger, near an X-wing. Dag was surprised to see an X-wing though he probably shouldn't be, they were of course a fashionable choice for a fighter even in this day and age.

Don't mess with a classic.

The ramp to The Big Guy lowered and Dagos made his way down, keenly aware he was stepping into a new world, his new life.

Connel Vanagor

 

[Cartri Keswoll]

Location: Enterprise Station Ship
Objective: Meet Corin and the others
Attire: Gear
Tag: Connel Vanagor / Kell Masaara / Dagos Terrek

Things had shifted quickly, too quickly. Not just for him, but for everyone. One moment Cartri had been back on Denon, enjoying life far removed from Darkwire, and the next he was strapped into a shuttle bound for a meeting with a group that seemed to materialize out of nowhere.

When the first message reached him, his gut reaction was simple: a corpo trap. Some ploy to reel him in and gut him where no one could see. But after digging, using channels and tricks only he knew, what he uncovered didn't add up to a corporate sting. Instead, it only sharpened his curiosity.

Their cause wasn't far from his own: making life hell for those who preyed on the weak. The difference was scale. This wasn't about local corruption or greedy syndicates anymore. This was about an empire, an entire machine set on drowning the galaxy in darkness. A far more dangerous game than his old one, but in a way, far more important.

How they had gotten his details was still a mystery, but right now, it didn't matter. Against his better judgment, Cartri had agreed to hear them out. A shuttle was prepped for him on Denon, its course set for the Enterprise station.

The hiss of hydraulics broke his thoughts as the shuttle ramp descended. Cartri stepped down into the hangar, his gaze sweeping the unfamiliar space. He ran a casual hand through his ginger hair, a mask for the nerves twisting in his stomach.

"Let's give it a chance… at least," he muttered under his breath, mind racing with possibilities as to what this mysterious group could truly offer him.

 

[Connel Vanagor]

What we do now echoes in eternity.
Enterprise Station Ship
Open Space

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

The landing pad trembled slightly beneath his boots. That wasn’t unusual—ships came and went all the time. But today, it carried a different rhythm.

Not a supply run. Not a covert op. Not Omega Squad returning bloodied and bruised from another black-glass world.

No.

This was the sound of a beginning.

---

Kell was first.

Her X-wing dipped in from the outer flight lane like a speeder with ideas far above its station. He winced a little as she tried to hover it into place—awkward, jerky, but not hopeless. At least she wasn’t lawn-darting it into the deck like last time.

She’s practicing, he thought. That counts.

The droid inside didn’t even scream. That, too, was progress.

Connel watched her bounce out in a gray NJO flight suit that looked two sizes too big for her firecracker energy. She scanned the deck, Force-sense brushing against each signature in the bay with quiet precision—he could feel her probing lightly, respectfully, until she settled at the nose of the fighter, leaning casually as if this whole war hadn’t touched her yet.

But he knew better. He’d seen her on Cato Neimoidia. That girl moved like silence and thought like a wolf. She was going to be dangerous.

If she didn’t implode from enthusiasm first.

---

Dagos arrived next, and Connel knew it the moment the old freighter dropped out of hyperspace.

The Big Guy.

He recognized the silhouette from his father’s holos. That ship had grit in its bones—hell, it looked like a punch-drunk brawler coming home from war, repainted in black and flame-red dragons like it refused to die quietly.

He could feel Dagos long before he stepped down the ramp—Force presence like coiled iron. Not angry. Not bitter. Just solid. A foundation wrapped in bruises.

And Caltin’s last Padawan.

Connel didn’t flinch at the thought, but he did let it settle on his shoulders for a moment. This wasn’t a replacement. This wasn’t “finishing” what his father started. This was a man on the edge of redemption and purpose. Just like him once. He would give Dagos the chance to find his own fire.

---

Cartri's arrival was last. The shuttle that touched down didn’t scream Jedi at all — no markings, no signature, just clean lines and the smell of corporate ambiguity.

The kid stepped off with careful confidence, red hair tousled and a hand through it like he wasn’t already scanning the hangar for vulnerabilities. Classic slicer instinct.

No wasted motion. But the tension in his posture spoke volumes. Cartri wasn’t here because he trusted them. He was here because he couldn’t afford not to be.

Connel respected that. Trust had to be earned. Especially by someone from Darkwire.

---

He stepped forward then, letting the quiet fall heavy before he spoke.

No ceremony. No fanfare. Just the low rumble of ships cooling and the distant sound of drills echoing through the metal. Three sets of eyes turned to him. All different.

All uncertain. All full of possibility.

---

You’re not here because I picked you. You’re here because the galaxy doesn’t have time to wait for people to be ready.

He stopped in front of them. Let his presence weigh on the moment—not the Force, not intimidation—just truth. This isn’t the Temple. There are no halls of meditation here. No robes. No lectures. If you want to learn in a classroom—go to university.

I learned in the field. From people who bled. From decisions I couldn’t walk back. That’s what this is.

He turned slightly and gestured toward the vault doors beyond the armory. They opened with a hiss—not dramatic, just functional.

Inside stood three armor sets.

Modeled after Omega Squad, but built for more than black ops. Refined for infiltration. Defense. Stealth. And survival.

Each one was customized—one with lighter plating and enhanced HUD controls for slicing, another optimized for silent movement and reactive camouflage, and the third built with reinforcement points and subtle detailing in red—a nod to what had come before.

---

This isn’t for the average Learner. If you’re average, that’s okay. There’s no shame in walking out of here. You’ll be fed, rested, and flown wherever you want.

But if you’re not…

He let the silence finish the sentence.

Let the armor speak.

Let the path speak.

---

Suit up. You’ve got twelve hours before your first simulation… Welcome to the Enterprise.

And then, he turned and walked away.

Let them make the choice.

Let them earn it.

Dagos Terrek • Cartri Keswoll • Kell Masaara​

 

[Kell Masaara]

Connel Vanagor Cartri Keswoll Dagos Terrek

Kell's head snapped to the armory as it opened, followed by a long whistle. Sheesh, for not being 'chosen', those puppies sure look custom made. How the heck did they get her measurements? Maybe that one doesn't need to be answered. Ever, actually. But that's an honest-to-goodness super agent type suit. Klar would be hyped for this, it's a straight out of a holofilm! Just thinking about it gets Kell amped too.

"Aw, Connel, way to make a girl feel special. If you wanted padawans, all you had to do was ask."

Wasting no time, Kell heads on over, waving to the two mystery crewmates as she did so, and grabbed the suit that was, at least to her intuition, clearly made for her. It just felt right. Finding a more discreet spot to put on her super suit, she emerges looking distinctly more... well, they all saw the suits, they all know what she looks like. The hair is probably going to be a problem, though, bushy as it is, but she suspects a place like this probably isn't maintaining a hair salon. Fine by her, she maintained that mop on her own for most of her life anyway! Using an old, though well-maintained, knife that was probably significantly thicker when it was manufactured, Kell pulls her hair back into something resembling a ponytail and after a few sawing motions looks like a Bo Katan historical cosplayer, albeit a bit messy. At least the helmet will be comfortable.

 

[Cartri Keswoll]

Location: Enterprise Station Ship
Objective: Meet Corin and the others
Attire: Gear
Tag: Connel Vanagor / Kell Masaara / Dagos Terrek

Cartri's gaze swept the armory before locking onto the suit waiting for him. His suit. How they'd managed to nail his measurements, or even know what kind of gear he'd need, was beyond him. Clearly, someone had been keeping tabs on his exploits back on Denon.

He strolled up to it, running his fingers lightly over the armor's plating as if testing its weight. "I'd call it an upgrade, but that'd be underselling it," he muttered, glancing back toward Connel. "Hey, how long have y—" But Connel was already gone.

Cartri sighed, shaking his head before reaching for the helmet. "This better not wreck my hair," he grumbled, scooping up the rest of the suit and wandering off to change.

Minutes later, the Shadow Runner emerged in his new gear. The fit was flawless, almost unsettlingly so, and the material hugged his frame with surprising comfort. The only adjustment would be the helmet.

He looked over the group, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

"Well… at least now no one's gonna recognize me by being ginger."

 

[Dagos Terrek]

​

They talked around each other, not to each other, choosing instead to aim their comments at Connel, the only thing they all had in common. Well, the other two did, Dagos kept quiet, if you can believe it.
It wasn't nerves or some standoffish disposition that had him holding his tongue and it wasn't the other two padawans either. He didn't know em but he ain't have nothing against them either, it's just that standing here staring at three custom suits of armor, one being his own, it sort of made everything seem more real. Dag wunt new to Jedi chit but he could tell this was gonna be some new kind of Jedi chit.

The two suited up so Dagos did to. Dagos watched, helmet tucked under his arm, as the only girl out of the three of them pulled her hair back and proceeded to saw it off with her blade.

He shook his head and threw her a grin of appreciation at her admirable pragmatism.

The other guy made a joke about about his hair too. Dagos hair was done intently tower braids, he ain't have to worry bout coming out this thing not looking fly as fuck.

Dagos set his helmet at his feet, not quite ready to put it on. He limbered up some and started throwing a couple lazy punches to get used to the feel and movement of his new armor.

Not fething bad he thought as his strikes became more precise, more purposeful. He finished his impromptu exercise with a little flourish of Swinging Gate, a martial style he learned from Caltin himself.

Not fething bad at all

Cartri Keswoll Kell Masaara Connel Vanagor

 

[Connel Vanagor]

What we do now echoes in eternity.
Enterprise Station Ship
Open Space

Michael, Gabriel, Azrael, Sariel, Raphael, Jeremiel, Connel, Raguel
[Any text in brackets signifies comm-link usage and not face to face conversation]

They had all gotten, and put on their gear.

They were all making remarks.

Not one of them spoke to each other.

That’s a problem.

They were being separate entities, separate Learners, and while that was an important aspect, to walk your own path and keep your anonymity, that is not feasible right now.

Let’s make something clear. I have not “chosen” any of you. None of you were assigned to me. You are getting this opportunity because of the skills that you already bring to the table. Do not misunderstand. You would not be here if I did not think you were capable. However, I do not have the final say in this case.

Reaching for his mask, he smiled at Buster and scratched him on the head. Buster then went to each of them to say “HIIIIII”. (Feel free and respond how you like, and RP his super social, bubbly attitude).

The gear you have on is yours, regardless of what happens here, but if you are looking for a specific style of training because of my last name, you might as well leave now. I’m sorry to be so fatalistic, but the galaxy is on fire right now and we need to adapt. I can help you do so, but you need to trust me, and more importantly, trust each other. That is going to be the purpose of your trip into the simulator. You have to trust each other.

A couple of steps to the side and he opened what looked to be a small, empty room, then walked in. When the three of you are ready. You will come get me.

Closing the door, he waited. When they walked in, they would see him on what looked like the other side of a huge obstacle course. There were walls to climb, pools to swim across, and treelines to traverse before reaching the rockpile he, and seven others(Omega Squad) were standing on.

Then…

There was the scorched earth… explosions and weapons fire EVERYWHERE.

Dagos Terrek • Cartri Keswoll • Kell Masaara​